


Crosswalk

by yixingsaun



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Broken Fanxing, Coming of Age, Confessions, Graduation, High School AU, M/M, those type vibes idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yixingsaun/pseuds/yixingsaun
Summary: It’s the week after graduation, and Junmyeon knows that if he doesn’t tell Yifan now, he never will.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"I say my goodbyes like I'm  _so_ cool.

For a second, I thought of  ~~holding you back.~~

it turns out, I'm such a _**fool**_."

\- Jo Kwan, Crosswalk

 

 

 

It’s the week after graduation, and Junmyeon knows that if he doesn’t tell Yifan now, he never will.

 

He’s been saying this for a long time.  He told himself he would tell him in sixth grade when they used to hang out every day and play soccer, but he chickened out.  He told himself he would tell him before the last day of middle school when everything would inevitably change, but he chickened out.  He told himself he would tell him during their freshman year after Yifan’s play, but he chickened out.  He told himself he would tell him at the sophomore year semi-formal under the twinkly lights and star-shaped balloons, but he chickened out.  He told himself he would tell him before Yixing got to him in junior year, but he chickened out.  He told himself he would tell him at prom when neither of them had dates, but he chickened out.

 

Now Yifan is leaving and he knows this is truly his last chance before he loses him forever.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, you said you wanted to meet me?” He approaches the table, taking off his sunglasses to hang them around the collar of his white v-neck.  Wu Yifan unsurprisingly looks amazing, his skin sun kissed and his hair tousled by the wind.  Junmyeon takes a long look at him as the taller male slips into the seat across from him.

 

And he just nods, pushing a cup of coffee towards him.  Sugar but no cream because Yifan has always taken pleasure in the galaxies it forms in the coffee as he pours it himself.

 

“I can’t say I’m not surprised.  We haven’t really hung out since when--7th grade?”  He takes a sip of his drink and then picks up one of the small cream containers in the cup on their table.  He slowly pours in one, two, three, four containers before looking back at the younger, smiling in satisfaction.

 

Junmyeon doesn’t respond.  As soon as their eyes make contact, he averts his gaze, turning his attention to his cup.  Suddenly, the barista’s handwriting on the side is fascinating.  Anything to distract him from the galaxies in Yifan’s eyes.

 

“It really has been the longest time,” he continues, oblivious.  “My parents always ask about you. I think they might like you more than me.”

 

He has so much he wants to say, but he can’t string his thoughts into coherent statements.  Under his gaze, Junmyeon feels two inches tall.

 

“But then again, they used to see you on a daily basis.  It’s funny how things changed over the years, huh?”  He chuckles, the rich sound reverberating through Junmyeon’s ears.

 

He doesn't reply.  He doesn't know how.

 

After a moment or so, Yifan’s smile falters.  Junmyeon pretends not to notice.

 

“So, what did you want to talk about?”  He shifts in his seat and Junmyeon knows he’s made him uncomfortable.

 

“I… Well, I …”  As he runs his fingers along the rim of his cup, he struggles for words.  “I just…”

 

Yifan waits patiently for him to continue.  He holds his cup with both hands, absentmindedly tapping his long index finger against the plastic.  He’s wearing the ring his grandfather gave him for his eighth birthday, two years before he passed.

 

“Well,” he says finally, looking down at the coffee he’s barely tasted.  “I’m leaving for America at the end of the week, you know.”

 

Junmyeon is well aware of this, but he nevertheless arches his eyebrows as if the information is some sort of surprise.

 

“I know it’s kind of sudden, but you know me: I’ve been dreaming about travelling since I could walk.”  A soft, musical laugh escapes Yifan’s lips, his eyes crinkling beautifully at the edges.  “Although, to be honest, I think I should probably be more hesitant about leaving,” he muses.

 

He agrees silently.

 

“I guess… Since Yixing and I broke up, I don’t have anything tying me here.”

 

Junmyeon looks away, worrying his lip.  After a moment, he nods as a signal for him to continue speaking.

 

“I just wish I could find a reason to stay.”

 

Junmyeon wants to scream.   _Stay!  You stupid,_ **_stupid_ ** _idiot.  Don’t you dare leave because I am **so** desperately in love with you.  I have been since sixth grade, and if you leave now, I don’t know what I’ll do.   _ But of course, he bites his tongue.

 

Yifan laughs, shaking his head in a way that makes Junmyeon think he’s reading his disgustingly lovesick mind.  But then he says, “I sound so stupid.”

 

Finally, something they can both agree on.  Honestly, all Junmyeon wants is for him to look at him with those big dumb eyes and realize he wants to stay.  But he keeps his eyes on his cup so even if Yifan is looking at him (which he is), he wouldn’t know.

 

“Do you think you’ll miss me?”  Yifan asks carelessly, stirring his coffee.  There is no meaning behind the words other than mild curiosity.

 

Still, Junmyeon’s breath catches, his head whipping up to meet the other’s teasing gaze.  Yifan laughs like this is just oh-so funny, the torture that he’s been putting him through over the years.

 

“Is that why you asked me here?”  He grins.  “To tell me to stick around?  Because you're in love with me or something?”

 

Yes.   _Yes_ .  One million times, 100% **yes**.  It’s absolutely the sole reason that Junmyeon requested Yifan’s presence here today, but he can’t manage to admit it.  Something about pride and the taunting smile on his friend’s lips makes his words die in his throat.  Per usual, his voice fails him at the most crucial of times.

 

“It’s okay.  I’m just teasing,” Yifan says, clearly misinterpreting the younger’s distress.  “Honestly…  I really am going to miss you, Junmyeonie.”  He focuses his gaze on him and smiles sincerely, so warm and genuine.  

 

Junmyeon thinks he's gonna pass out from stress.  He quickly turns his gaze back down at his empty cup, his heart fluttering.  “I--”

 

But of course, Yifan’s phone vibrates from its spot on the table, effectively cutting him off.  Junmyeon glares at the device for a moment as if that will delete the text.  Before his telekinesis can cause it to burst into flames, the elder picks it up, smiling apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  Just give me one second.”

 

Junmyeon really isn't _trying_ to snoop, but in the half second before he can look away, he sees the name  _Yixing_ written across the screen with a stupid sheep emoji that makes his stomach churn.  If they broke up, why is he texting him?  Why does _he_ have a cute emoji?  Why is Zhang Yixing always stealing _his_ moment? 

 

As Yifan reads the text message, his smile fades.  Junmyeon can practically see the wall going up, the veil concealing what’s really running through his mind.  A smile reappears on his handsome face, but it’s not the same.  It’s not genuine.

 

“I’m really--”  Junmyeon tries again, but he can see Yifan is no longer listening.

 

“I have to go,” Yifan mumbles.  He locks his phone and puts the lid on his plastic cup, pulling himself to his feet.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Panic fills his veins.  “But, Yifan--” 

 

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, raising the cup and slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans.  “It was really nice seeing you again.  Call me if you’re ever in New York.”

 

If Junmyeon was a different person, maybe he would have raised his voice and demanded 30 seconds so he could _finally_ tell him about the emotions that have plagued him since middle school.  If Junmyeon was a different person, maybe he would have stormed out of the cafe, caught him at the crosswalk and forced him to listen to what he was to say.  If Junmyeon was a different person, maybe he would have confessed to Yifan a long time ago.

 

But he _isn’t_ a different person.

 

He’s Kim Junmyeon.  And he sits back and **watches** as the boy he’s loved for the past six years, Wu Yifan, walks out of the cafe and out of his life.

 

And he’s chickened out.   _ **Again.**_


	2. Happier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yifan reminisces.

 

 _Baby_ , you look **happier**. You do.

I knew one day you’d fall for **_someone new_ **.

But if he ~~breaks your heart~~ like lovers do,

just know  **I’ll be w a i t i n g here for you** .

\- Ed Sheeran, _Happier_

 

 

 

 For a while, as long as there was Wu Yifan, there was Kim Junmyeon.  You rarely saw one without the other.  Every second of every day, they were together.  All was right with the universe.

 

Junmyeon planned every detail of their future together, from living in a small apartment in New York City to having a small shiba inu named Baekhyun.  Yifan would sit back and watch as his friend filled journals and sketchbooks of their life together.  Their parents used to joke around about them getting married, but Junmyeon wasn’t joking.

 

And Yifan, well, never really thought about it.  He never thought about a life without Junmyeon.  They had been best friends since they were in diapers, and he expected the two of them to stay that way.

 

Then, in fifth grade, tragedy struck.  They were put in separate classes―Junmyeon had Mr. Kim and Yifan had Mrs. Choi.  Junmyeon was stuck with a bunch of strangers and Yifan had _Lu Han_.

 

Junmyeon hated Lu Han.  He was smart and handsome and had everyone wrapped around his finger.   _Including Yifan_.

 

Junmyeon couldn’t believe the boy he used to play soccer with turned out to be a conniving man stealer.  It was a blessing when Lu Han switched to a Catholic school for middle school.

 

All of the sudden, Yifan noticed that Junmyeon was acting… weird.  Sometimes when he looked up, he found his friend staring at him with this weird sad look in his eyes like his sister when she watched videos of that one singer she liked and his boyfriend.  Sometimes their hands would brush as they reached for something at the same time, and Junmyeon would recoil and make some sort of vague excuse to leave.

 

He wanted to fix things, to go back to the way they were.  But whenever he brought it up, Junmyeon would start avoiding him.  He would say he had to help his mom, that he had to meet his Mandarin tutor (which didn’t make sense because Yifan was _fluent_ ).  Yifan didn’t understand.

 

In middle school, things were different.  Junmyeon worked on his academics and Yifan joined the basketball team.  They didn’t hang out everyday anymore.  Yifan had new friends, so Junmyeon decided it was time that he got some as well.

 

Moving on came in the form of Kim Jongdae.  He was loud and had an annoying laugh and never had his own fucking pen but Junmyeon looked at him like he put the stars in the sky.

 

Yifan didn’t like it.  He didn’t like how when he _finally_ had the chance to hang out with Junmyeon after basketball, he was always talking about _him_.  He didn’t like how when he met Junmyeon at his locker, he was always looking over his shoulder.  

 

He especially didn’t like the way Junmyeon looked at Jongdae because that was the way he used to look at _him_.  Before things got weird.

 

When Jongdae and Junmyeon started dating, which Yifan knew was coming, he felt like the third wheel.  Even when Jongdae wasn’t around, he was.  Yifan saw it.  He saw it in the flush of Junmyeon’s cheeks, in the constant flow of texts to Junmyeon’s phone, in the look in Junmyeon’s eyes.  

 

And he knew.  He knew that Junmyeon was happier than he’d been in a long time, and even 13 year old Yifan knew that he couldn’t jeopardize that.

 

So, he pushed back the burning feeling in his chest and avoided all things Kim Junmyeon.  He didn’t stop at his locker or answer texts or walk him home anymore.  Actually, he started walking the long way home just so he wouldn’t have to see him.  When people asked him why he and Junmyeon weren’t talking anymore, he just shrugged.  It seemed everyone was bringing up their relationship.  Everyone except Junmyeon.

 

After avoiding him for weeks, it started to feel natural.  It felt natural to go straight to homeroom, to only pick up one can of soda instead of two, to sit with Yixing at lunch instead.  He didn’t even think about his ex-best friend and how his gaze always lingered on him when he wasn’t looking.  

 

Time passed.  Junmyeon was the top of the class, and Yifan made the varsity basketball team in eighth grade.  There was dances, but Yifan always stayed home.  His parents asked about Junmyeon sometimes, but eventually they got the hint.  The questions faded until Junmyeon was nothing but a faded image in family scrapbooks.

 

But now there’s a week until his departure, and the last thing Yifan wants to do is go see Yixing.  As he walks to the park where he wants to meet, his mind is spinning.  He thinks about their relationship, about their breakup, about the look on Junmyeon’s face when he left the cafe.

 

Maybe, he thinks, he should have told Junmyeon.  He should have apologized for ditching their friendship because he got a boyfriend.  He should have told him how he really felt all those years ago.  Sometimes the emotions feel distant, but other times they’re overwhelming, like relentless waves crashing into him over and over again, pushing him farther and farther away from shore until it’s out of sight.

 

It would have been good to tell him, probably, because at least then there would have been an ending.  There would have been closure, the satisfaction of having attempted.  But he didn’t.  He never told Junmyeon how he felt.

 

And now he’s sitting on a swing next to Yixing, his heart filled with so many regrets he can’t even begin to describe.

 

“So,” Yixing begins, tilting his head back to look at the clouds and exposing the pretty column of his neck.  Yifan knows all about that neck; he’s memorized it with his lips.  “You’re leaving on Saturday.”

 

“Yep,”  Yifan replies, letting the ‘p’ pop.  He stares down at his feet, dragging lines in the sand.  “You’re leaving, too.”

 

“Yep,”  Yixing echoes.  He hums for a second, and then turns to look at him.  “So how did it go with Junmyeon?”

 

“It didn’t.”  His grip on the chain tightens until the metal digs into his fingers and his knuckles turn white.

 

He knows Yixing is frowning at him without having to look up.  “So you chickened out.”

 

“Yep.”  He exhales through his nose.

 

“You’re a coward.”

 

“Yep.”

 

It’s not a revelation or anything.  Of course Yifan is a coward.  He’s come up with every excuse in the book to explain why he shouldn’t talk to Junmyeon about his feelings, but the cold hard truth is that he’s stupid.  

 

“You don’t get it, though,” Yifan says after a while.  “You never did.”

 

“Indulge me,” Yixing replies, his voice calculated and carefully devoid of judgement.  They’ve had this argument before, and he knows anything Yifan could possibly say.  However, he does what he always does: he lets his friend vent.

 

“I don’t have to tell him how I feel because if he says no, I will literally die,” Yifan explains, much like he has a billion times before.  Sometimes, though, it just feels good to say it.

 

“Will you?”  He scrunches his nose.

 

“I don’t have to tell him how I feel because I would rather live not knowing.  Because you know, Yixing, Kim Junmyeon is one of the best people I’ve ever met and I’d rather not remember him by the look on his face as he rejects me.”

 

Yixing sighs, a sad and tired noise.  “You’re an idiot, Yifan.”

 

Yifan looks away, looks anywhere but him.  “I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s raining the day Yifan is supposed to leave for the airport.  His flight isn’t until the evening, so he lazes around the house and annoys his mom since his bags are already packed.  Eventually, however, she gets tired of him and sends him to the attic.

 

After chasing away some spiders and browsing the general vicinity, he finds a box marked “childhood friends.”  On the very top, there’s a photo album and underneath are a stack of journals.  He plops down on the dusty floor and opens the album.  

 

It starts from Yifan’s first week in town, back when he was four and spoke a weird mixture of Mandarin and heavily accented English.  He doesn’t remember very much from back then, except that his best friend was a Korean boy named Kim Junmyeon.  There’s pictures from preschool to elementary school all the way up to his eighth grade graduation.  There’s a picture of him standing next to Junmyeon, but that was already way past the point of them no longer talking and they’re only giving strained smiles and standing too far apart for people who used to be so close.

 

Yifan swallows around the lump in his throat and closes the photo book.  Next in the box are a stack of journals.  He knows what these are, knows that they’re filled with broken promises and forgotten memories.  And at the very bottom of the box is a little plastic bubble with a ring inside.

 

He wants to cry.  This isn’t just his past; it’s Junmyeon’s, too.  This is so much to leave behind, so much to let go of and he doesn’t know if he wants to.  Not yet.  Not until―

 

“Yifan!”  His mother’s voice rises through the rafters.  “Someone is here to see you!”

 

Yifan really isn’t in the mood to see anyone other than a pint of mint chip ice cream, but he figures he has all the time in the world to be pouty and sad once he gets to New York.  For now, he needs to put on a good face for his family.

 

“Coming!”  he bellows back, gathering the books back into the box for safekeeping and heading down the stairs.  “Who is―”

 

At the base of the staircase is Junmyeon, dressed in a sweater and jeans.  He looks like he’s someone’s father.  He’s speaking politely to Mrs. Wu, smiling like it’s only been 5 days rather than 5 years.

 

“Junmyeon.”  He tries his best to make his voice sound normal and not like he’s about to have a heart attack.  “What are you, uh, doing here?”

 

He looks up at him, and Yifan swears the world stops spinning.  It’s not _fair_ .  It’s not fair that Kim Junmyeon gets to walk around looking like _that_ and smile in that way that takes Yifan’s breath away.  “Hey.  I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

 

“Oh, sure.”  He watches blankly as his mother pats Junmyeon reassuringly on the arm and mutters something about taking cookies out of the oven even though she hasn’t baked in a good ten years.

 

Yifan shoves the gumball ring in his pocket and runs his hand through his hair, praying that no cobwebs got stuck.  “You seemed a little off the last time I saw you.  Is everything alright?”

 

Junmyeon turns his gaze to the carpet as Yifan leads him out to the backyard where they can sit in peace.  “Um, maybe?”  He clears his throat.

 

Yifan doesn’t know what to say, so he just keeps walking, keeps his gaze forward until they’re outside and he’s sitting down in one of the patio chairs.  

 

Junmyeon takes a deep breath like he’s about to say something, so Yifan waits and waits but no words come out.  When he looks down at him, Junmyeon’s mouth opens and closes again like a fish out of water gasping for air.

 

“What’s up?”  Yifan says finally.  Things are so weird now.  They used to hang out every day and now he can’t even manage a full sentence.  The air is so heavy around them, it’s suffocating.

 

“How is Yixing?”  Junmyeon asks finally, and when he does, he covers his mouth with his hand like he’s made some ridiculous faux par.  In the millisecond before he looks away, Yifan sees something like regret in his eyes.

 

“He’s good,” Yifan answers, but his confusion lifts his response up at the end so it sounds like a question.  “He’s leaving for China tomorrow.”

 

Junmyeon’s head whips up.  “What?  He’s going back to Changsha?”

 

He nods slowly, trying to understand why exactly Junmyeon is so concerned about Yixing.  “He’s going to stay with his grandmother for a while.  She’s sick.”

 

“Oh, that’s such a shame,” Junmyeon murmurs, but through his sympathy the gears in his head are turning.  “And when she gets better?”

 

Yifan blinks.  “What do you mean?”

 

“When she gets better,” Junmyeon repeats urgently.  “What about Yixing?”

 

“I… don’t know?”  He frowns.  “Why?  Do you― are you―”

 

“Shut up, Yifan.”  Junmyeon wrings his fingers like he does when he’s thinking.  “So he’s not going with you to New York?”

 

“No?”  Yifan doesn’t understand.  Junmyeon’s brain has always worked a million times faster than his, always moving and finding weird conclusions that Yifan would never consider.  “Why would he come with me to New York?  If I was gonna live there with anyone, it would be―”

 

 _You._  Yifan stops himself before the words can slip from his traitorous lips.  Junmyeon.  Kim Junmyeon, his best friend from the very beginning.  Whether he’s there as his friend or his boyfriend or both―it doesn’t matter.  He just can’t imagine not having him there.  His heart hurts all over again, so Yifan looks down at his hands. He doesn’t see the crestfallen look on Junmyeon’s face.

 

“Who?”  he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

 

“No one.”  Yifan waves it off.  “It doesn’t matter.”  And then, before he can bite his tongue, he says, “We’re not kids anymore, Junmyeon.  It’s not like I would expect you to run away with me to New York because of some crush from when we were little.”

 

The silence hangs in the air, so heavy and uncomfortable and Yifan wants to punch himself in the face for bringing it up.  Of course Junmyeon will never want to talk to him again now that―

 

“You knew?”

 

Yifan turns his head so fast he gets whiplash.  “I knew _what_?”  His eyebrows furrow together.  

 

“You knew that I… had a crush on you?”

 

“You had a crush on me?”  Yifan can’t feel his fingers, but they’re probably shaking.  He stares straight ahead at the pool, at the water and how it ripples with the pouring rain.  Junmyeon?  Had?  A crush?  On him?

 

“So you didn’t know?”  Junmyeon is confused.  “But you said crush―”

 

And then it hits him like a pile of bricks.

 

“Yifan… You had a crush on _me_?”  

 

“Yes?”  He’s still having trouble processing.  Kim Junmyeon, the most perfect man in the entire universe, used to like him?  Wu Yifan?  A clumsy basketball player with a fashion major?  

 

“Since _when_?”  Junmyeon puts his hand on his thigh, bringing him back to reality.

 

“Um… since… always?”  Yifan makes a face.  “We were gonna get married, remember?  I thought it was a given.  You proposed to me.”

 

Junmyeon flushes, and he looks so cute that Yifan wants to scream.  He doesn’t, though.  That wouldn’t be very cool of him.  “Oh my God, we were eight.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less serious.”  He fishes in the pocket of his shorts for the ring and hands it to Junmyeon.  “A promise is a promise.”

 

“Oh my God.”  Junmyeon stares at the little plastic ring in his hands for a moment and then tangles a hand in his hair.  “Yifan, you _idiot_.”

 

He’s confused again.  “What?  Why?”

 

“I’ve liked you all this time, you dummy!”  He shoves the ring back into his hands.  “Why didn’t you that you liked me?”

 

“Um,” he frowns.  “I thought you knew?”  He pauses for a moment, the gears spinning.  “But then you liked Jongdae,  and then that underclassman, Oh Sehun.  You just... seemed happier.  You know, not with me.”

 

“Yeah, but _you_ had Yixing,” he mumbles, more to himself than Yifan.  “You still do― I always thought that you and―”

 

“No,” Yifan says, perhaps a little too strongly, but to be fair his brain feels like jelly.  “Yixing was never mine.”  

 

Junmyeon is frowning again.  “So this entire time…”  They could have been together.  All this time he’s been wallowing in self pity and getting in his own way.  They’re both fucking idiots.  

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, staring out at the rain bouncing off the pool.  “This entire time.”  

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for being the worst lol fhklajla


End file.
